


The way it feels on your skin, dripping down

by piercouffaine



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Peter Parker Misses Tony Stark, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25438015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piercouffaine/pseuds/piercouffaine
Summary: Peter suffers from PTSD since the snap ended and Natasha comforts him. (sorry that I can’t summarize)
Relationships: Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 1
Kudos: 44





	The way it feels on your skin, dripping down

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is my first story on here. I wrote this by myself so I am very sorry if there are grammar mistakes. And if anyone who reads this struggled with self harm/anxiety/PTSD/depression or knew someone who did, and the subject triggers you, don’t read this story because it mentions that. Finally, in this story, Natasha did not die in Endgame.

As Peter walked home, he thought about the close call he had earlier. He was in gym class, and the teacher said that class was taking place in the gym before the whole class begged him to let them go outside. If Peter stayed inside during gym, he’d have to take off his sweater and he never took it off when he was with other people. Not since the cutting started. 

Five years ago, when Thanos snapped his fingers and killed half the universe, no one felt their death come. It was quick and painless. 

Except for Peter Parker. Moments before he died, his spidey sense kicked in and he felt the pain of his death. 

And while no one remembered the time spent in the soul world, Peter remembered every second of the five years he was there. He couldn’t move or breathe. It was pitch black, he couldn’t see, hear or feel anything. It was like time had stopped. 

But he felt it go on, for five whole years. 

When everyone got back, he felt strange. 

It was weird for him to feel and see things. 

To be able to move, breathe, hear his heartbeat. 

And ever since Tony died, he felt sad and empty. He wasn’t the same anymore. 

Of course, being dead for five years and having your mentor/father figure die would change anyone, but it was different for Peter. 

He fell into depression, already suffering from anxiety and PTSD. And that’s when the cutting started. 

At first, it was an accident. He was alone in his house - Aunt May was at work, she was working the night shift again - and he was cutting vegetables for dinner. His hand slipped and the knife cut his palm. It was small, and at first, Peter didn’t notice it. But once the blood started sliding down his hand and onto the cutting board, he quickly walked over to the sink and washed the cut. 

But there was something about the feeling of it. There was pain, sure, but it was comforting. It reminded him that he was real and alive and not back in the soul world. 

A few days later, he grabbed a knife from the kitchen and slid the dull side of the blade across his arm. He shivered at the cold, but it was nice. He flipped it over and pulled the sharp edge in a somewhat straight line over his forearm. It left a trail of blood in it’s path. 

Peter sat there, relaxed by the feeling of the blade on his skin, the handle in his palm, the cool liquid sliding down his skin, and onto the floor. He stood there for a few minutes, staring at his arm, before cleaning up the blood on the floor. He did the same thing a few times a week, never losing too much blood. 

His mood improved over time, the lost blood taking some of the pain with it. When Pepper told him that Tony had left some money for him in his will, he smiled for the first time in a while. The money given to him was enough so that Aunt May could work normal hours. 

A few weeks later, Peter was back to his normal self and he was able to hang out with his aunt more. They had movie nights every other night, and May started to learn how to cook. Other nights, Peter would go over to the compound and hang out with the Avengers, everyone finding comfort in each other after Tony’s death. 

When Aunt May started being at the apartment more often, Peter could no longer use a kitchen knife to cut. 

So he glued the blade of an old pencil sharpener to a popsicle stock, making sure to clean the blade beforehand. His cutting became more and more frequent, the blade passing over his skin every day. He wore sweaters or long shirts to cover up the cuts and no one seemed to notice. 

Until a few months later, when Natasha asked him to spar. 

Peter started spending his weekends and afternoons at the Avengers compound. He became closer with the Avengers and they seemed to like the young kid’s company. 

He started to get better at hand to hand combat, sometimes sparring with Sam or Scott. But he never sparred with Nat or Steve because he knew that he would have to take his sweater off for that - they were hard core when it came to training. 

So when Natasha asked his to spar, his initial response was:   
“No”   
“Why not?” she asked.   
“Because I don’t want to” came his reply.   
“Come on, it’ll be fun” she pleaded. 

She’d probably never stop bothering him about it if he said no, so he followed her down to the training rooms and put on gauze hand-wraps before taking off his sweater to ensure that the spy would never see the cuts. 

They sparred for a while, dodging punches and kicks and taking each other down a few times. 

When they took a water break, Peter had to unwrap his hands to open his water bottle. He had wrapped the gauze way too tight so he carefully unwrapped it and opened his water bottle before wrapping his hand and arm up again. 

But he wasn’t quick enough because before he even picked up the water bottle, Natasha was walking over to him, her gaze on his arms. 

“Peter?” she asked.   
“Yeah?” he replied, not looking up from his wrap.   
“Show me your arms.”   
“Why?” 

Instead of responding, she grabbed his arms, unwrapping the gauze on his left hand until his scars were clear as day on both forearms. 

“Oh my god, Peter,” she gasped.   
“It’s nothing,” he replied, pulling his arms back and walking away from her.   
“No it’s not” she said, pulling him into her arms. 

At first, he fought it, trying to escape her embrace. 

But her grip was strong, so eventually he gave up and sank into her arms. 

She combed her hands through his hair, whispering “it’s gonna be okay” into his ear over and over again as he started to cry. 

He hugged her back, his head tucking into her shoulder, letting the tears fall out of his eyes. 

“Oh Peter, it’s gonna be okay,” she assured him, whispering into his ear. 

She led him back to her room and they both sat down on his bed. Once he was calmed down, he started telling Natasha everything. From what he felt in the soul world, to the PTSD, to the cutting. 

She stayed silent throughout, rubbing her hand in circles on his back. 

When he finished talking, there were tears in his eyes again. 

“Oh, ребенок паук, I’m sorry that you have to go through that. But you know that I’m here for you right?” 

“Yeah i do. And thank you, мама паук. Talking to someone about it made it easier.” 

“Of course, Peter. Remember, if you ever need anything, even if it’s the middle of the night, just call me, okay?” 

“Thank you.” 

“Anything, ребенок паук.”

**Author's Note:**

> ребенок паук - baby spider   
> мама паук - mama spider


End file.
